Never An Absolution
by DarkFaithSlayer
Summary: This is the story of Kristy's mother before she was Kristy's mother. More detailed summary inside! Please read and review!! *COMPLETE*
1. Part I: The Beginning

**Title**: Never an Absolution                                 

**Author:** DarkFaithSlayer****

**Rated: **PG-13 

**Classification: **Drama/Romance 

**Plot Summary:  **This is the story of Elizabeth Marks, before she became a wife and mother, before she was Elizabeth Thomas-Brewer, and before Kristy was even born! This is about how Elizabeth grew up in the turbulent 1960s, how she fell in love with Patrick Thomas, and how she became the extraordinary woman that Kristy looks up to so much. 

Chapter One 

            _1969. New York City, New York. _

 

 On a warm Friday night in late June, New York City was as alive as ever. The "city that never slept" lived up to its name, especially to the recently graduated class of 1969. Seventeen year old Elizabeth Marks sat perched Indian-style on top of a small table at a nightclub in downtown Manhattan. The club was packed, with the majority of the party-goers being the students of Manhattan-Dakota High School who had graduated that morning. The club was dimly lit and smoky, with the scents of alcohol and cigarette smoke clouding the atmosphere. Behind the bar, a sequined banner that read "Congratulations, Class of 1969!" was hung. 

          Elizabeth was sitting with her three best friends: Grace Guettler, Laura Rush, and Amy Watson. "Dude," Amy was saying between drags on her cigarette. "I cannot believe that we're graduates! High school is _finally_ over. I thought it would never end. And I turn eighteen next week---I am so out of here." 

          "Why leave?" asked Grace. "New York is the best place in the world! And now that the sucky part—school—is over, it's nonstop partying until college." 

          "College _is_ a nonstop party," Elizabeth joked. 

          "Actually it's a nonstop peace protest," Laura put in with a roll of her eyes. "My cousin is a freshman at UCLA. She says that down there, the students are way into peace organizations and war protests." 

          "Oh yeah?" Elizabeth asked. 

          Laura nodded. "Yeah, but I don't know why they're going to all the trouble. The war will be over soon. Remember that President Johnson stated he was going to take 25,000 soldiers out of Vietnam?" 

          Grace looked bored. "Great, great," she said, rolling her eyes to accentuate how _un_-great she thought it was. "In case you guys didn't notice, it's graduation night," she continued. "Forget politics and let's have some fun!" 

          No sooner were the words out of her mouth then a Jimi Hendrix song began to play. Grace hopped up from her seat and grabbed Elizabeth's arm. "Let's dance!" 

          Laughing, Elizabeth allowed herself to be swept onto the dance floor. She was having a great time, despite thinking about the war-torn world their diplomas stated they were ready to join. Tonight, all she wanted to think about was having a great time and dreaming about what her future had in store for her. 

          *        *        *        *        

          Elizabeth lived in a twentieth floor apartment on Central Park West, a beautiful apartment with a view overlooking the park. Mr. Marks was a successful journalist and provided a comfortable home for Elizabeth, her younger sister Judy, and their housewife mother. Elizabeth normally loved coming home to the fresh-smelling apartment, with its cream colored carpets and plush furniture, but on graduation night, as she slowly turned the door knob and eased the door open, all she could think about was getting some sleep. Her head was still an achy mix of dancing, music, and alcohol swirled together with mixed-up thoughts of Vietnam and college. All she wanted to do was lay down and sleep for a few hours. 

          Elizabeth let herself into the apartment and locked the door behind her. The door had at least five locks on it, because you could never be too careful even in a plush apartment with a doorman in the lobby. 

          As Elizabeth was turning each of the locks, someone said, "Did you have fun?" 

          Elizabeth jumped, and then turned to see her mother standing in the doorway to the front hall, wearing a bathrobe and holding a mug of coffee. "Mom, don't scare me," Elizabeth said, flipping the last lock into place before completely turning to face her mother. "Yes, I had fun," she answered. "Too much fun. I need sleep." 

          "I bet," her mother said. "Liz, it's nearly three in the morning. I know that it was your graduation night, but it's certainly not safe for a young girl your age to be wandering New York City in the middle of the night." 

          "I wasn't wandering," Elizabeth said. "I was in the club until about fifteen minutes ago, when I took a cab right here. The only times I was on the streets were getting in and out of the cab, which couldn't be avoided." 

          "Elizabeth---" 

          _Stop being such a smart ass_, Elizabeth finished mentally. She knew her mother would never actually say it, but she knew that's what she was thinking. 

          Hannah Marks sighed, and then attempted to give her daughter a half smile. "I've been waiting up for you," she said. "At least give me the satisfaction of scolding you a little." 

          Elizabeth smiled at her mother. "And give me the satisfaction of being a pain," she replied. 

          Elizabeth had always gotten along well with her mother, mostly because Mrs. Marks was such an amazing person. Growing up, Elizabeth had heard all sorts of stories of her mother's life before she'd married and had children. Hannah had been eighteen in 1944, when she'd enlisted as an army nurse and had gone overseas to the war in Europe. That was where she met Frank Marks, Elizabeth's father. The two married after the war was over and moved to New York City, and in 1952, Elizabeth had been born. 

          Mrs. Marks was a great mother, both to Elizabeth and to ten-year-old Judy. She and Elizabeth were especially close, which was why Mrs. Marks wasn't more angry at Elizabeth's broken curfew. She was just glad to see Elizabeth was in one piece. 

          Suddenly, Elizabeth wasn't tired anymore. She headed for the kitchen to pour her own mug of coffee, and then sat down at the table. Hannah joined her. 

          "So, what are you planning on doing now?" Mrs. Marks asked her daughter. "You can do anything you want, you know. I know your father wants you to major in journalism, but is it what you want?" 

          Elizabeth shrugged, looking out the tiny kitchen window. The view was only of the side alley and the apartment across the way, but Elizabeth liked it anyway. She stared at the fire escape of the next apartment building, before turning back to her mother. "I don't know," she said. "I like to think I can do anything I want, but that's not realistic, is it? I have to have concrete plans that will get me somewhere. Dad's right, journalism is a good career." 

          "Why is it unrealistic to want to do whatever you want?" Mrs. Marks asked. "Look at me. I was only a year older than you when I became a nurse. I desperately wanted to do something more than ration sugar or sell war bonds---so I did." 

          "Yeah, but what did your parents think?" Elizabeth asked. 

          "They hated it," Mrs. Marks said matter-of-factly. "My mother wanted me to marry right away and marry someone rich, for that matter, so I could be a proper housewife. And as things turned out, we both won. I went to the war, married your father and had two beautiful daughters. And I'm still a proper housewife." She smiled at Elizabeth. 

          Elizabeth nodded. "I don't want to be a housewife. No offense, Mom, but I want to have a career." 

          "Then have a career," Mrs. Marks replied. "The world is at your fingertips, Elizabeth. Use it." With that, she got up and rinsed out her mug, said goodnight, and headed down the hall to her bedroom. 

          Elizabeth sat there awhile longer, mulling over their conversation. Hannah was right, of course. Elizabeth would never be able to return to this moment—this time when she'd just closed the door on the past and everything that could hold her back. She was standing on the threshold of the future, and all she needed to do was open that next door. 

          She better pick the right one. 

*        *        *        *        


	2. Part II: College Years

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews so far! I have to admit that I didn't know about Elizabeth's sisters, but for the purpose of my story, there will just be Judy, since it's too late to fix my faux pas now :-/.  Also re: Nannie, since Nannie's real name or past history was never mentioned in a BSC book to my knowledge, then also for the purpose my of story, Hannah Marks is Nannie. That said, I hope you all enjoy the next chapter in Elizabeth's life!_

***

Chapter Two 

            _Late 1969. University of Connecticut at Stamford campus. _

            "Hey, hey, LBJ! How many men will you kill today? Hey, hey, LBJ! How many men will you kill today?" 

            It seemed like the entire state of Connecticut was yelling the anti-war chant at the top of their lungs, but it was only the kids on the UC Stamford campus. Still, with thousands of college students yelling, it made for a terrific sound. Elizabeth wondered who would come up with such a rhyme. LBJ stood for President Lyndon B. Johnson, of course. America was very anti-Vietnam, and most especially among college kids. Elizabeth couldn't decide whether it was idealistic or just plain naïve to protest the war. Surely these kids didn't think the president of the United States would pull out of Vietnam because of an ugly chant. 

            Elizabeth reached into her backpack and pulled out a notebook and pen, then approached the first student she saw. "Excuse me!" she called. "Excuse me!" 

            The guy looked at her. He was probably a senior and most definitely a hippie, with his long hair and tie-dyed shirt. Elizabeth gave him a polite smile and introduced herself. "I'm Elizabeth Marks and I'm writing a story for the school paper on this protest. Would you like to be interviewed?" 

            "Hey, groovy," the student agreed. 

            "Great!" Elizabeth beamed at him. "Okay. First of all, what's your name?" 

            "Taylor Masters." 

            "Okay, Taylor." Elizabeth wrote down his name and then asked, "Do you really think protests are effective in convincing President Johnson to withdraw troops from the war in Vietnam?" 

            "Hell yes," Taylor replied. "The more protests, the better. If Johnson would get it through his skull that we are against this war, as United States citizens, then he has to listen to us. This is a democracy, remember?" 

            Elizabeth was frantically writing down his responses. "Okay, but in the grand scheme of things, it's just one protest. How do you think it will effect Johnson's decisions?" 

            "Just one protest _here_, sure," Taylor said. "But there are so many more protests all over the country. Have you been to D.C. lately? There's thousands of radicals and shit protesting right in the capital that Johnson would have to be stupid to miss it. He needs to open his eyes and look at what this is doing to the country. There are little 18-year-old kids getting drafted to go and kill people, or else get killed themselves. People are deserting, dodging the draft to hide out in Canada. How much more evidence do you need before you realize that this war is wrong?" 

            Elizabeth finished writing down his quotes, thinking about what he had to say. He had a point. Elizabeth thanked him. "This will be a very valuable interview to the paper," she said. 

            "As long as it gets out there," Taylor responded. "Peace, Elizabeth." 

            "Peace," she repeated, and then plunged into the crowd to find more people. 

            It was December of 1969 and that winter in Connecticut had been long and cold, but none of the students seemed to mind. Everyone was in the courtyard and on the steps of surrounding buildings at the heart of campus. The protest was almost like a big party, with everyone yelling and mingling. Elizabeth had attended several rallies and protests so far and she had to admit that she enjoyed them. She didn't necessarily agree with the cause but she did like feeling like she was involved in something important. Mostly she went to cover the protests for the UC Stamford paper. Majoring in journalism, like her father wanted her to, was opening doors for her and she definitely enjoyed it. Working for the school paper was a great opportunity to meet people, share views, and get extra credit. So she was sticking with it. 

            Elizabeth turned to a fresh page in her notebook and looked around, trying to decide whom to approach next. In the crowd, she spotted an Asian girl who looked about her own age, sitting on a large blanket on one of the sidewalks not far away. Elizabeth hurried over to approach the girl. 

            "Hi," Elizabeth said brightly, plopping down onto the blanket. "It's great out here, isn't it?" 

            The girl made a face. "Not really," she said with a sigh. "I'm bored and I'm freezing and this is all pointless." 

            Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "How come you're here, then?" 

            "I'm only here because of my boyfriend," the girl answered. "He's so into this protesting stuff and I'm supposed to support him, but I honestly don't see what the point is. Johnson doesn't care what we think anyway." 

            An opposing point of view! Elizabeth grinned as she pulled out her notebook. "Mind if I interview you? I'm Elizabeth Marks, from the school paper." 

            The girl smiled back. "Sure, might as well. I'm Miyoko Yamamoto, but everyone calls me Mika." 

            "Wow, that's a pretty name," Elizabeth commented. "Are you Japanese?" 

            Mika laughed as she ran a hand through her long, silky black hair. "You couldn't tell?" she joked. "Seriously, I am. My parents moved here when I was a baby, so I've lived my life in America but I was born in Tokyo." 

            "That's groovy," Elizabeth commented. "And I thought _I_ was exotic, coming from New York City!" 

            The girls chatted and Elizabeth got her interview. By the end of the afternoon, not only did Elizabeth have two great interviews and a brilliant story idea, but she also had a new friend. 

*          *            *            *          

            Freshman year seemed to fly by. By June of 1970, Elizabeth and Mika were best friends. 

They did everything from shopping together to getting their hair done and attending parties together. Even though they were as different as night and day, they were as close as anything. In fact, Elizabeth thought that their differences were what made them such good friends. Mika was very smart. She was majoring in education so that she could come a librarian. As she told Elizabeth, "I always loved the library when I was a little girl. What could be better than being paid to go there?" Of course, Mika loved to read. Her favorite authors included John Steinbeck and Edgar Allen Poe, and her favorite book was The Great Gatsby. She was conservative and while everyone else dressed up in bell-bottoms and peace symbol necklaces, she usually wore neat skirts and perfect blouses. But with her long black hair and exotic looks, she was beautiful and she usually had several boys asking her out. 

            Elizabeth was more outspoken but no less brilliant. She was turning into a very good journalist, through her classes and her steady work on the college paper. She had a way with words and usually got her point across, which made her admired and respected by everyone who read her work. She was always noticed, despite her physical appearance: she was small and thin, with straight, dark blonde hair and big brown eyes. Along with working on the college newspaper, she had also joined SAW, an on-campus peace organization. SAW stood for Students Against War. In the past year, Elizabeth had developed a large interest in politics. Not only the Vietnam war, but current events and war in general. 

            So, even though they were different, they were close. So close that, in December, when Mika's roommate moved out, she invited Elizabeth to move in. Sharing a room made Elizabeth feel like she had a sister in Mika. 

The second week in June was finals week. Elizabeth was practically glued to her desk chair, working on her final story for her journalism class, one which had nothing to do with politics. She was working on a "Freshman Development" piece, about how students dealt with being away for their first year of college and the experiences and challenges they faced. Elizabeth knew she had a good topic, but she was having trouble expressing what she wanted to say in a way that would make sense. 

            "Are you okay?" Mika finally asked on Tuesday afternoon, after Elizabeth had tossed down her pen and dropped her head onto the desk. 

            "No," Elizabeth groaned into the desk. 

            Mika put aside her history text and sat up on her bed. "What's the matter?" 

            "This stupid paper," Elizabeth said, sitting up and giving Mika a despairing look. "It's total crap." 

            "I'm sure it's not. Here, let me see what you have so far." Mika reached out and picked up the pile of papers from Elizabeth's desk. Scanning over the messily scrawled paragraphs, she murmured as she read. "Developing new friendships. . . participating in activities. . .Liz, I think it's coming along nicely." 

            "It's okay," Elizabeth admitted, "but I can't express what I'm trying to say. I mean. . ." she shook her head. "I don't know." 

            "Well, you have until Friday," Mika reminded her. "I'm sure you'll tie it all together before then." She handed Elizabeth the papers. 

            Elizabeth nodded and took a sip of the coffee from the mug on her desk. She nearly spit it back out again. "Oh, _gross_," she said. "This coffee is only like three days old or something." 

            Mika made a face. 

            "I'm going to take a break and go down to the vending machines," Elizabeth stated. "Want anything?" 

            "Chocolate," Mika said with a grin. "I need some energy." She handed Elizabeth a dollar bill, and Elizabeth headed for the door, calling, "I'll be right back," over her shoulder. Out in the hallway, Elizabeth barely noticed the usually chaotic dorm hall. They lived in Robinson Hall, which was co-ed and full of rowdy students, especially on their floor. As usual, several doors were open and students called out to one another from across the hallway over the blare of music from someone's record player. _There's something I ought to include in my paper, _Elizabeth thought as she hopped around a couple of girls sitting on the floor._ During freshman year, students develop an immunity to the sort of chaos one finds in dorms. Some students can even take it a step further and use their immunity to tune out a particularly long lecture_, _which just adds to the heightened tension of exam week._ Elizabeth rolled her eyes and made it to the doors at the end of the hallway, which led to a sitting area and the vending machines. Outside the hall, it was much quieter. Elizabeth sighed and then headed to one of the candy machines first. She bought Mika and herself a chocolate bar, and then bought a soda. As she turned back for the hallway, she popped open her soda---and bumped into someone. 

            "Whoa!" she exclaimed in alarm, jumping out of surprise. Her freshly opened soda bottle dropped from her hands, and Elizabeth could only watch in horror as the soda spilled all over the person she'd bumped into. 

            "Hey!" the guy cried. 

            "Oh, wow, I am so sorry," Elizabeth apologized. "I didn't see you." 

            The guy looked down at his black T-shirt, which was now damp. "At least I was wearing dark colors," he said finally. 

            "I'm really sorry," she apologized again. She looked around for paper towels or napkins but was unable to find any. So for lack of anything else to use, she took off her flannel over-shirt and offered it to him. 

            He looked down at her flannel and then looked back at her---and then laughed. "I've never had a girl offer me a shirt before," he said. 

            Elizabeth shrugged sheepishly. "Well, I guess it's only fair that since I ruined your shirt, you can ruin mine." 

            "I think I'll take you up on that," the guy said. Still grinning, he took the flannel and patted his own shirt dry. "Thanks." 

            She shrugged. "Sorry again." She started to head back for the hallway, but the guy called after her, "Hey, what's your name?" 

            She turned and studied him. He was cute, now that she looked closer. Tall and muscular,  with short, dark reddish-brown hair and blue eyes. "Elizabeth," she answered. 

            "Elizabeth," he repeated. "Uh, I'm Patrick. Patrick Thomas." He offered a hand to her, and Elizabeth smiled, taking it. "Nice to meet you," she said. "Do you live in Robinson?" 

            "Nah," Patrick said. "I live over in Stewart Hall, but I'm over here for a study group. Exams, you know." He made a face. 

            "Tell me about it," Elizabeth agreed. "I'm stuck on a killer paper for my journalism class." 

            "Journalism, huh? Hey, are you Elizabeth _Marks_?" he asked. 

            "That's me," she confirmed. 

            "Oh, hey, I've read your stuff," he said. "Compelling." 

            She smiled. "Thank you. I'm a journalism major and I really enjoy it. What's your major?" 

            "Haven't declared one yet, but I'm leaning towards business. That's where the money is, you know." He glanced at his watch. "I gotta get going. Listen, Elizabeth, this will probably sound pretty forward of me, but….would you like to go out to dinner with me sometime? Maybe a movie?" 

            Elizabeth's eyes widened. He was asking her out? Usually it was Mika who attracted men like flies, not Elizabeth. Especially not after she'd just dumped soda all over them. But still, Patrick looked genuinely interested in her, which she could tell just from the way he was looking at her. As if she were some goddess instead of a freshman in baggy jeans and a tie-dyed T-shirt. Elizabeth found herself smiling back at him. 

            "Sure," she accepted finally. 

            Patrick's eyes lit up. "Hey, great," he said. "How's tonight?" 

            "Tonight? Well…." Elizabeth thought of her paper. She should probably stay in and get it done. On the other hand, maybe it would be better to put it away for a night. Thinking about it too much was as bad as not thinking about it enough. Elizabeth pushed any doubts out of her mind and gave Patrick another smile. "Pick me up at eight," she told him. Then, before she had a chance to change her mind, she turned and headed back into her hall. She walked, as if in a daze, down to her room and once she let herself into her dorm, she closed the door and leaned against it. 

            "Wow, about time," Mike said, looking up from her textbook. "What happened? I was about to send a search party after you." 

            "I spilled soda all over this guy," Elizabeth said, tossing Mika her chocolate bar. "One of the most _dreamy _guys I've seen."  

            Mika winced. "Oh, wow, that's too bad," she said sympathetically. 

            Elizabeth flashed Mika a broad smile. "It was the best thing to happen in my life." 

*          *            *            *          


	3. Part III: Romance

A_/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone! About Mika, she is related to the Kishi's, in my story she's Claudia's mother. I couldn't find her first name so I made up Mika. Does anyone know Claudia's father's name? If so, let me know, and as usual, I hope you like the next chapter! _

Chapter Three 

            "Necessary actions _my ass_!" Mika exploded later that night. "That is dis_gus_ting." 

            Elizabeth jumped. She and Mika had been quiet for hours. Mika was still engrossed in her history text and Elizabeth had just put away her paper to start getting ready for her date with Patrick. Elizabeth frowned, wondering where Mika's sudden outburst had come from. "What's wrong?" she asked. 

            Mika sighed. "Sorry, sorry. It's just that I'm reading the chapter in my book about World War Two. Can you believe that the governor of California ordered all Japanese-Americans to be kicked out of their homes and put in internment camps?" 

            Elizabeth made a face. 

            "For the good of the safety of America against traitors or whatnot," Mika went on. "I'll tell you one thing, German-Americans were probably as much of a threat as Japanese, but no one locked them up, did they?" 

            "People are ignorant," Elizabeth said with a shrug, turning back to her closet. "God knows I've seen enough of it just by interviewing people." 

            "I'm just glad that Mimi still lived in Japan then," Mika said. "I try to think of her living in some dirty camp . . ." she shuddered. "Can you _imagine_?" 

            Elizabeth smiled. She'd met Mika's gentle, loving mother during spring break. Everyone, even her children, called her Mimi and she was one of the most amazing women Elizabeth had met. "Have you ever talked to Mimi about the war?" Elizabeth asked, already thinking of a newspaper story. _Our Parents in Times of War_.  

            "Sure," Mika replied as she closed her history book. "She doesn't like to talk about it much but sometimes she'll say things. Did you know my father fought in Europe?" 

            "Really?" Elizabeth asked. Forgetting momentarily about dressing for her date, she crossed the room to sit across from Mika eagerly. 

            "Yes," Mika confirmed. "He fought on the American side." 

            "_Really_," Elizabeth said again. 

            Mika nodded, playing with one of her blankets. "See, a lot of people don't know that one of the reasons that Japan got into the war was because America ordered Japan to stop aggression in East Asia. Japan replied to that order with Pearl Harbor. My father didn't agree with what Japan was doing in East Asia and he was completely against what Japan had done at Pearl Harbor. He was eighteen in 1942 and Mimi was his girlfriend. Dad knew that he would have to make some kind of decision. So, he and Mimi married and then Dad got on a ship, came to America, and joined the US Army." 

            Elizabeth just looked at Mika in amazement. "Wow," she said. 

            Mika smiled. "Mimi says that they were so much in love," she said dreamily. "Dad wrote to her everyday and Mimi still has his letters. And, Liz, my father was such a hero. He says he wasn't, but he did so much. He went to Europe because America didn't send Japanese soldiers to the Pacific, unless they were going to be interpreters. Dad was there on D-Day, when they stormed the beaches at Normandy, you know. And after they landed, he saved lives and did so much. He kept a diary throughout the war. Once when I was in high school, he showed it to me." Mika let out her breath. "It's amazing." 

"I'd love to see something like that," Elizabeth said. "So what happened after the war? Did he just stay in America?" 

"No. After the war, Dad went back to Japan for Mimi and then they both went to Europe to help with the restoration of all the cities that had been destroyed. When Mimi found out she was pregnant with me, they went back to Japan and stayed with relatives. After I was born, we moved here." 

            "God, how dreamy," Elizabeth sighed. "My parents were over in Europe, too. My mom was a nurse and that's where she met my father." Her story idea was beginning to take more form inside her head. "Mika, I've got a great idea," she said. 

            "What?" Mika asked. 

            "For my final story," Elizabeth continued. "Forget freshman development. This paper is open topic, right? I'm going to write about our parents. Their stories from World War Two. Won't that be exciting? Oh, Mika, can I interview Mimi? And your dad?" 

            Mika was smiling. "Of course you can. Have I ever told you that you're brilliant?" 

            "Yes, but I never get tired of hearing it," Elizabeth retorted. Suddenly her eyes caught the clock and she saw that it was nearly seven thirty. "Oh, hell," she said. "I gotta get ready for my date." 

            "Huh," Mika said with a grin as she picked up her history text again. "I half-thought you'd skip your date to work on your paper." 

            Elizabeth laughed as she headed back over to the closet. "I might, but trust me, Patrick is _way _too dreamy to miss! Tonight I'll have my date and then I'll have the rest of the week to cram together a decent story." 

            "Good luck," Mika called as Elizabeth grabbed an outfit and raced down the hall to the bathroom. 

            Elizabeth took the world's fastest shower and then hurriedly got dressed. Wanting to erase Patrick's first impression of her as a clumsy freshman, she dressed casually but neatly in a pair of clean bell-bottom pants with a black, shiny acetate knit blouse, complete with long sleeves and contrasting brown buttons. She left her hair loose and finished the look with a pair of loafers that actually belonged to Mika. Elizabeth headed back to her room and spun around for Mika. "How do I look?" 

            "Elegant," Mika replied.

            Elizabeth had just enough time to pull on her jacket before someone knocked on the door. Elizabeth took a deep breath and then pulled the door open. 

            There was Patrick, and he looked even cuter than Elizabeth remembered. He was dressed in a pair of black pants and a somewhat casual, dark blue Oxford shirt underneath his coat. He smiled when Elizabeth pulled open the door. "Hi," he said. 

            "Hi," Elizabeth replied, suddenly feeling shy. 

            "You never told me which room was yours," Patrick said with a smile. "Luckily, Elizabeth Marks isn't too hard to track down. You're quite well-known." 

            She smiled. "Do you want to come inside and meet my roommate?" 

            "Sure," Patrick accepted. Elizabeth stepped aside and Patrick walked into the room. Mika sat up straight when he entered and as Elizabeth turned to close the door, she saw Mika flash Patrick a broad smile. "Hi," she said. 

            Patrick nodded to her. "Hey. I'm Patrick," he introduced. 

            "Mika," Mika replied, leaning over to shake his hand. Elizabeth came up beside Patrick and said, "So, we should get going, shouldn't we?" 

            "Sure," Patrick agreed. "I hope you don't mind if we see the movie first and then go out to dinner." 

            "That's fine," Elizabeth said. Patrick smiled at her and then turned for the door, calling, "Nice to meet you, Mika," over his shoulder. As Patrick opened the door and stepped outside, Elizabeth took a minute to flash a grin at Mika, who gave her a thumbs-up sign and mouth the word, "_Groovy!"_ in reply. Elizabeth grinned again and then hurried out the door after Patrick. 

*          *            *            *            *

            "Get an extension," Patrick said. 

            "I don't think that's allowed on final papers," Elizabeth replied, twirling her straw around in her drink. "Is it?" 

            "I took journalism last year," Patrick explained. "Professor Dawkins is usually pretty lenient about it if you have a good reason. I think she'd much rather read about World War Two than some freshman development thing." 

            "That's true," Elizabeth agreed. "I mean, it's her generation." 

            It was nearly ten o'clock at night, and yet to Elizabeth, it felt like the night had just begun. She and Patrick had gone to an Audrey Hepburn drive-in movie and then Patrick had taken her to a nice little clam and seafood restaurant that she hadn't been to before. They ordered just about everything on the menu so that they could sit and talk. They talked about everything: their families, where they'd come from, and the direction they wanted to take. Patrick was actually a year older than Elizabeth and was a sophomore. He was as interested in journalism as Elizabeth was but he thought he'd made a better career in business. Plus, it was what his father wanted him to do. Elizabeth could definitely relate to that. She was telling him all about her new story idea and worried aloud that she wouldn't be able to get it done in time. That was when Patrick suggested asking for an extension. 

            "She'd definitely be cool with that," Patrick continued. "Besides, I'm interested in seeing what you come up with. Who do you plan to interview?" 

            "Well, my mother for one," Elizabeth replied. "And Mika's parents, and maybe a few other people who were around then. Actually, I hope I do get an extension. If I can do that, then I can take a trip back home to New York City to see my mother, and maybe get an interview with Mrs. Middles." 

            "Who's that?" Patrick asked. 

            "She's Mom's best friend and lives in the apartment right across the hall," Elizabeth replied. "I think she was in the Nurse Corps too." 

            "There you go then," Patrick said with a smile. "I really admire that about you, Elizabeth. You're so determined and smart. I know you can make this into one hell of a paper. Professor Dawkins won't know what hit her." 

            Elizabeth felt shy again, and she blushed. "Thanks, Patrick." 

            The rest of the night flew by. When they couldn't hang around the restaurant anymore, they finally headed back out to Patrick's car. Patrick drove her back to Robinson Hall and they talked during the whole ride. By the time Patrick pulled to a stop in front of her dorm, Elizabeth felt as if she'd known him a lifetime, instead of just a day. "I had a great time, Patrick," she said. "I hope we can do this again soon." 

            "Well, so do I," Patrick said, grinning. "I had a good time too." 

            Elizabeth started to open the car door, but Patrick put a hand on her arm to stop her. When she turned back to face him, Patrick leaned over and kissed her. For a minute, Elizabeth didn't respond, but the gentle feel of his lips against hers was overpowering and finally, Elizabeth kissed him back. When he pulled away, he smiled and repeated, "I definitely hope we can do this again." 

            Elizabeth pushed her door open all the way and then leaned over, this time kissing his cheek. "Good night, Patrick," she said. Then she let herself out of the car and hurried back into the dorm. As she headed up to her hall, she touched her lips gently, thinking of Patrick. It hadn't been her first kiss, but it had been the first one that felt so…magical. So right. Elizabeth smiled to herself. 

            Everything about Patrick seemed right. 


	4. Part IV: The Proposal

Chapter Four 

_Christmas Eve_, _1972. New York City._

"Can you believe it?" Elizabeth was so excited, she could hardly sit still. "This is like a dream come true. I'm moving back home!" Elizabeth was tempted to bounce up and down on her train seat, but she restrained herself.

Mika, who was sitting beside Elizabeth, gave her friend a knowing smile. "It is exciting," she agreed simply. Then, still grinning, she bounced slightly in her seat. Elizabeth laughed.

"Seriously, though," Elizabeth said. "I mean, not only do I only have half a year left of school, but I get to finish at New York University. Who would have thought? That paper freshman year was a better idea than I ever imagined!"

            Elizabeth could hardly believe her good luck. She'd gotten an extension on her final paper back in 1970 and had turned in a full-length article, full of interviews, quotes, and pictures from men and women who'd lived during World War Two. Hannah Marks had spoken all about being a nurse and Mimi had offered an eye-opening view of what it was like to be in Japan during the war with a husband fighting for America. Elizabeth had also spoken with a few women who went to work in factories, learned what it was like to have to ration everything, and what it felt like to have a husband or boyfriend fighting across the world. Elizabeth's professor had been so impressed with the paper that not only did Elizabeth get an A, but the professor sent the paper along to the head of NYU's journalism department. Later, Elizabeth got an invitation to apply to NYU's journalism program, along with a chance at an internship with the New York Times. Elizabeth had turned out a few more stories, articles such as "Up Close and Personal" which was a profiling of a few students from UC Stamford talking about their college experiences; plus an article about the war in Vietnam, which had ended the previous August. The application process was a long one but finally, just a few weeks earlier, Elizabeth learned that she'd been accepted and could transfer at the turn of semesters. Even though Elizabeth only had one semester left of college, her internship with the _Times_ was offering that if they liked her work, she would be signed on as a full-time employee after graduation. Elizabeth felt like her life was just beginning. 

            "My father's going to be proud," Elizabeth commented to Mika. "And maybe he'll take to Patrick easier, if it's on top of good news." 

"Your parents will love Patrick," Mika said. Elizabeth reached over and squeezed Mika's hand, grateful for her presence. The two women were on the train heading for New York City. It was Christmas Eve and Mika was going to spend the holidays with Elizabeth and her family, and then help Elizabeth move back into the apartment. The one bad thing about transferring was that Elizabeth would no longer be Mika's roommate. But Elizabeth silently swore to herself that they'd stay best friends, no matter what the distance. 

            There was also Patrick to think about. Elizabeth smiled as her thoughts drifted to Patrick Thomas. They were still dating after two and a half years. Elizabeth was sure that she was in love. Nothing had ever felt so right to her. Patrick had already graduated, of course. When he learned of Elizabeth's opportunity, he had decided to go to New York as well. He had a job lined up with a company called Walker Stuart Franchises, and had moved into his new apartment earlier that week. In fact, he was going to pick Elizabeth and Mika up from the train station. 

            Elizabeth dropped Mika's hand and reached down for her purse so that she could get her vanity case. The train would be pulling into Grand Central Station any moment now, and Elizabeth hadn't seen Patrick in a week. She wanted to look nice for him. A look in her vanity case revealed that her make-up was fine and her hair was shimmering. Elizabeth took a deep breath. "I think the fact that Patrick decided to move to New York too really says something, doesn't it?" she commented to Mika. 

            Mika didn't seem a bit fazed about Elizabeth's sudden change in topics. "I think it means he really loves you, Liz," she said sincerely. 

            Elizabeth sat back in her seat with a sigh. "I'm going to marry him," she murmured. Mika's eyes widened. "You're going to _marry_ him? Oh, Liz!" Mika threw her arms around Elizabeth. "When did he ask you?" 

            Elizabeth pulled away, laughing. "He didn't ask me yet, silly. I just meant that if he _did _ask, then I would. I mean, he traveled all the way to New York just to be close to me. He really does love me." Her eyes twinkled.

            "That's great, Elizabeth," Mika said, hugging her friend one last time as the train pulled to a stop. "It really is. I know this is just going to be a magical Christmas for you." 

            "Yes," Elizabeth agreed as she got to her feet, pulling on her long black coat. "A magical Christmas." 

            "All out for New York City!" the conductor bellowed as he walked down the aisle. "Grand Central Station, last stop!" 

            Elizabeth ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath, her anticipation at seeing Patrick briefly overshadowing her general excitement. She didn't have much luggage, since most of her stuff had been sent ahead to her parents' apartment. All she had was her small purse, which she put over her shoulder. Then she followed Mika down the aisle towards the exit. 

            Outside, it was a briskly cold, late December night. The train station was shadowed and dark, with steam from the cold engines billowing all around them. Worlds away, faint Christmas carols were being sung and somewhere, a bell was jingling. As Elizabeth climbed down the stairs and onto the platform just outside the train station, her eyes swept the area, looking for Patrick's familiar build. The platform was crowded with passengers but Elizabeth hardly saw anyone else. Her eyes were meant only for Patrick. 

            "There he is!" Mika suddenly said, grabbing Elizabeth's arm. Elizabeth whirled and looked in the direction that Mika was pointing. Immediately, her mouth spread into a bright smile. Patrick was striding down the walk, his eyes trained on her and her alone. Elizabeth's heart pounded as she hurried forward, anticipation quickening her steps. "Patrick," she called, almost giddy with happiness. He reached her in a few short strides and Elizabeth threw her arms around his neck, holding him close and breathing in his warm, familiar scent. Patrick squeezed her tightly in return. 

            "Hiya, angel," he said as he finally let her go. Elizabeth stepped back and looked up into his eyes, and saw only his love for her shining in them. Immediately, it was as if they'd never been separated. Elizabeth grinned as she hugged him again. 

            "Hey, Mika," Patrick said over Elizabeth's shoulder. Elizabeth pulled away and turned to face Mika, who was watching from the shadows, a smile on her face. Elizabeth shot Mika a wink and then took Patrick's hand. "Let's go," she suggested. "I'm sure my parents are dying to see us." 

            "Ahem," Patrick cleared his throat as the trio began to walk. "Your parents are nice, right?" 

            "Nervous?" Elizabeth teased. Patrick was also going to join them for Christmas Eve dinner and it would be his first time meeting Elizabeth's parents. 

            "No, of course not, Liz," Patrick responded. "I just---ah---well, yeah, okay. I'm nervous." He smiled sheepishly. 

            Elizabeth nudged him lightly. "Well, there's no need to be. I already know my mother will love you. And Dad will certainly be respectful of you, seeing as how you're already a college graduate and everything." 

            "Barely," Patrick acknowledged. "Still, I'm sure this will go okay. After all, I fully intend on making great friends with your parents." 

            "You'll get along famously," Elizabeth promised, while inside she was glowing. Obviously the Marks' impression of Patrick was important to him. Did he have ulterior motives? _Is he imagining them as his in-laws?_ she wondered. The thought that Patrick might actually ask her to marry him was both exhilarating and frightening, and Elizabeth found herself gripping his hand more tightly, as if to calm her nerves. Patrick smiled down at her and Elizabeth smiled back, instantly reassured. As they walked down a sidewalk, they passed a group of carolers. "_Jolly old St. Nicholas, lean your ear this way. Don't you tell a single soul what I'm going to say . ._ ." The carol was echoing beautifully throughout the crowded streets. Next to the group, a charity Santa paced the sidewalk, ringing a bell and calling, "Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas." Elizabeth thought back to Mika's words on the train and, in a sudden flash of Christmas spirit, Elizabeth pulled some change from her pocket and headed over to the Santa. He smiled at her as she approached and held out a small UNICEF tin, where Elizabeth dropped her coins. 

"Merry Christmas," Santa wished her. 

_Yes,_ Elizabeth thought as she rejoined her group. A few stray snowflakes drifted onto her nose and she absently brushed them aside, smiling at Patrick again. _Patrick loves me, _she thought_. And all you need is love. This will be the merriest Christmas ever. _

_            *          *          *_

In a short time, they had arrived at the apartment. Elizabeth knocked on the door and waited. Beside her, Patrick fidgeted nervously and Elizabeth reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, relaxing him. Patrick took a deep breath just as the door swung open. There stood Hannah, looking beautiful and relaxed in her red and green seasonal dress, holding a plate of cookies. "Elizabeth!" she exclaimed, setting the plate down aside. She hurried forward and swept Elizabeth into a tight hug. "Oh, welcome home, honey." 

            "Hi, Mom," Elizabeth said, laughing as she hugged her mother back. 

            Hannah let go of Elizabeth and noticed Mika and Patrick. "Merry Christmas, Mika," Hannah said warmly before shifting her gaze to Patrick. "You must be the young man my daughter's so taken with," she said with a teasing smile as she held out her hand. "I'm Hannah Marks." 

            "Patrick Thomas," Patrick replied as he reached out, taking her hand in a firm but gentle shake. "It's so nice to finally meet you." 

            "Likewise," Hannah replied as she stepped aside to let them in. "Although, Elizabeth talks about you so much, I feel as if I already know you." 

            "Mom," Elizabeth whispered in protest, her face flushing. 

            Patrick looked slightly amused. "Well, I hope it's all good things," he said. 

            "Would they be anything else?" Hannah replied. Then they both laughed and Elizabeth decided to forget about her chagrin. Hannah and Patrick were getting along, so what else mattered? 

            "There's my little girl," another voice boomed and Elizabeth instantly remembered what else mattered. _Dad_. Frank Marks was approaching them, managing to look both stern and friendly at the same time, as he had a gift of doing. Elizabeth loved her father but, like most men, he was protective of his daughter and especially wary of her suitors. Elizabeth hoped that he'd be easy on Patrick. 

            "Hi, Dad!" Elizabeth said enthusiastically as she gave him a hug. Frank hugged her back before instantly focusing on Patrick. "Is this your young man?" he asked. 

            Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Ahem. Yes, Dad, this is Patrick Thomas. Patrick, my father." 

            To anyone else, Patrick looked cool and calm, but Elizabeth could see the nervousness in his eyes as he reached out to shake Frank's hand. "Very nice to meet you, sir." 

            Frank nodded, looking Patrick up and down as if he expected the handsome boy to morph into a snake at any moment. "What's your business, Patrick?" he asked immediately. 

            "Franchise," Patrick replied smoothly. "I'm currently working with Walker Stuart." 

            "Ah," Frank nodded. "Good company. Been there long?" 

            "No, sir, I just transferred," Patrick replied.

            Frank nodded again and asked a few more questions, which Patrick answered with ease. Elizabeth watched, a little breathlessly, as Frank slowly relaxed his wariness and looked a little friendlier. After what seemed like ages, Frank offered Patrick a cigar and the two walked off, still chatting about business. Elizabeth grinned. She knew Patrick had passed the test. 

            "Isn't he great?" Elizabeth said to Hannah, who looked pleased as well.

            "Liz, I think you've chosen a fine suitor," Hannah replied as she and Elizabeth began walking for the kitchen. "I think you'll be very happy together." 

            *          *          *          *

            The dinner went smoothly. Along with Elizabeth, Patrick, and Mika, the Marks' had invited several of their friends over as well. Judy's best friend Sarah was also present. Everyone talked and laughed and congratulated Elizabeth on her opportunity. And Patrick got along better with Elizabeth's parents than she ever expected. He talked warmly and made jokes with Hannah, and spoke to Frank about journalism, revealing that he had a strong interest in writing as well. "Sometime I may go back to school for it," Patrick commented. Frank looked thrilled. Elizabeth knew that Patrick had won over her parents with ease. 

            After dinner, Elizabeth and Mika helped Hannah and one of Hannah's friends with the dishes while everyone else gathered in the parlor for cigars and after-dinner wine. Elizabeth was in the middle of drying a glass when Patrick entered the kitchen. "Do you ladies mind if I steal Elizabeth away for awhile?" he asked. 

            Elizabeth glanced at Hannah, who waved her on. "Go ahead, Liz," she said. "We're almost finished here anyway." 

            "Well, okay. Thanks." Elizabeth dried her hands and turned to Patrick expectantly. Patrick took her arm and gently led her away from the kitchen. "How does a carriage ride sound?" he asked. 

            "Romantic," she replied. "Let me get my coat." 

            A little while later, the two were snuggled in the back of a carriage, riding through the streets of New York. Elizabeth had gone on carriage rides before, but none like this. The night was perfect: cold enough to be magical, with tiny snowflakes dancing in the air around them, making Elizabeth feel as if she were in a snow globe. The driver took them on the outskirts of the city, so that they were overlooking New York Harbor, and in the near distance, the skyscrapers blended against the night sky, lights twinkling like a thousand blue stars. It was quiet except for distant city noises, the gentle waves of the water sloshing against concrete, and the clop-clop of horses' hooves. 

            "Elizabeth," Patrick spoke up. "You know that I love you, right?" 

            "Of course," Elizabeth replied, turning so that she was looking into his eyes. "I love you too." 

            Patrick smiled slightly. "I've never felt this way about anyone before," he went on. "You're easily the most incredible woman I've ever met and I'd happily spend the rest of my life with you." 

            Elizabeth's eyes widened. Was he going to do what she thought he was going to do?

            Patrick reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, black velvet box. Elizabeth automatically gasped. Patrick gave her a small grin and said, "I'm not really very good at this sort of thing, Liz, and I guess the easiest way to say this is to just say it." He paused, looking deep into her eyes as he opened the box. Elizabeth put a hand to her mouth as she looked down at the ring glinting back up at her. It was a perfect, gold ring with a large diamond stone. Elizabeth felt her eyes start to well with tears as she looked back at Patrick. 

            "Elizabeth," he said, "will you marry me?" 

            "Yes!" she cried, letting out a sob as she leaned forward, hugging him tightly. "Yes, I'll marry you, Patrick." 

            Patrick's own eyes were bright as he kissed her and then took her hand. Gently, he took the ring from the box and slipped it easily onto her finger. Elizabeth was so happy, she felt as if she could burst at any moment. She kissed Patrick again, feeling all the love that they had to share washing over them in thick waves. 

            She had never been happier. 

*          *          *          *


	5. Part V: Life and Death

Chapter Five 

_August, 1981. Stoneybrook, Connecticut._

            "You'd think that it would get easier the third time around," Elizabeth Marks-Thomas said breathlessly to Hannah Marks, who was nearby. Hannah just grinned ruefully and said, "I wouldn't know. I only had two children." She squeezed Elizabeth's hand a little tighter. "Now, breathe, honey. And count your blessings." 

            "Count my blessings?" Elizabeth exclaimed as another searing pain flashed through her body. "Name one." 

            "You get to be in this nice modern hospital giving birth. My mother depended on a midwife in her own bedroom when she had me." Hannah smiled. 

            Elizabeth rolled her eyes and then squeezed them shut against the hard pain that was wracking her entire body. Two of the nurses in the room were encouraging, "Push, push." Elizabeth felt like telling them to shut up, but even in childbirth, she wasn't one to yell.  So she just gritted her teeth and pushed.

            It was a while later, but suddenly the pain faded and a new sound joined the chorus of "Push! Breathe!" It was the wailing of a newborn baby. Elizabeth's doctor, Dr. James, exclaimed, "It's a girl!" As they worked to prepare the baby, Elizabeth collapsed back onto her pillows in complete exhaustion. As Hannah put a cold washcloth to Elizabeth's head, she said, "There, now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" 

            Elizabeth just groaned. But only a few seconds later, the baby stopped crying as a nurse wrapped her in a pink blanket, carrying her over to Elizabeth. "It's a girl," she repeated, a quiet smile of happiness on her face. Elizabeth struggled to sit up as the nurse held out the pink bundle. "She's beautiful," Elizabeth said in amazement as she took the tiny baby in her arms. The little girl was wide awake, though she wasn't crying anymore. She had a small patch of fine dark hair on her head and her eyes were the same big brown eyes that Elizabeth possessed. Despite herself, Elizabeth immediately burst into tears. "She's beautiful," she repeated. All she could do was marvel at the perfect little girl that _she_ had created. Even though Elizabeth had been a mother for four years---she already had two sons---this was different. This was a daughter, the baby daughter Elizabeth had always wanted. Tears of happiness flowed freely from her eyes. 

            Hannah smiled and said she was going to tell Patrick the news. Patrick had been in the waiting room with their children Sam and Charlie since Elizabeth went into labor that morning. Elizabeth briefly hoped that the boys were okay. It was now nightfall and it was a long day to wait around a hospital. But then the door flew open and Patrick rushed in, and the sight of her husband made Elizabeth's anxieties cease. "Liz!" Patrick said, the smile on his face bright enough to reach his eyes. He hurried over to the bed and leaned over, dropping a kiss onto her forehead. "We're parents!" he said with a grin. 

            "Third time's a charm," Elizabeth whispered in response. "How are the boys doing?" 

            "Oh, fine," Patrick said. "Charlie's been happy with a coloring book for the last few hours and Sam's sleeping. Your mother is with them now," he added. Then he focused his attention on the child in Elizabeth's arms, who was now looking curiously at the new visitor. "Hi there," Patrick said softly. 

            Elizabeth smiled. "Patrick, _this_ is our new daughter," she said proudly. "I'd introduce you properly, but I'm afraid she doesn't have a name yet." Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "What do you think?" 

            "Hmm." Patrick pulled up a chair close to the bed and sat down, reaching out one hand to smooth the girl's dark hair back. "How about Amanda? That's a pretty name. Of course," he continued with a grin, "it should be up to you. You did the hard part." 

            "That's true," Elizabeth said with a laugh. Patrick glanced down at the baby again before returning his gaze to Elizabeth's tired but joyful face. "I love you," he said quietly. Elizabeth leaned over and kissed him deeply for a moment. When they broke apart, Elizabeth murmured, "Kristin." 

            "No, Patrick," he shot back with a teasing grin. 

            Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I meant the _baby_. Let's name her Kristin. Kristin Amanda Thomas." 

            "Oh, team effort. I like it." Patrick smiled again as he touched Kristin's soft cheek. "Nice to meet you, Kristin Amanda. Welcome to the Thomas family." 

            *          *          *          * 

            "You know, things couldn't have turned out more perfectly for us," Mika Kishi said a few weeks later. It was a warm, late-summer day in early September and the two women were in Elizabeth's backyard. Elizabeth, who was trying her hand at grilling burgers, nodded. "I know," she agreed. Pausing from the grill for a moment, she gazed out at the scene that was playing on the warm green grass that marked her property. It was a quiet day in suburban Stoneybrook, the sleepy little town where Elizabeth and Patrick had settled four years before. Elizabeth had heard about the house from Mika, who had been living in Stoneybrook ever since she married John Kishi in 1975. When the house across the street from Mika went up for sale, Mika had contacted Elizabeth, since the Thomases were looking to move away from their home in New York City. Patrick had agreed to it and Elizabeth had lived across the street from Mika ever since. 

            Now, it was one of those perfect days that made Elizabeth peaceful and happy. She was hosting a Labor Day picnic in her backyard and plenty of people from the neighborhood had come over. Mika's husband John was engaged in a conversation with Mika's younger sister Peaches and Peaches' husband Russ, along with the Thomas' next-door neighbor, Richard Spier. Not far away, Richard's wife Alma was pushing Mika's three-year-old daughter Janine on one of the wooden swings on the swing set. Some of the neighborhood kids had made their way into the yard and were playing catch along with Charlie and Patrick. For a four year old, Charlie was surprisingly good at catching the small wiffle ball and tossing it around. Elizabeth smiled as she watched Charlie toss the ball back to Patrick. Patrick fumbled and dropped the ball, letting roll on the grass a few feet away. "Wow, Charlie," Patrick said. "You're getting too strong for me." As he trotted over to pick up the ball, he caught Elizabeth's gaze and smiled at her a little sheepishly. Elizabeth smiled back before shifting her gaze to the picnic table, where Hannah sat talking with Mimi. Not far from the two women was a small playpen where Kristin was entertaining herself by bouncing a block up and down, occasionally showing her affection for the block by trying to bite it with her nonexistent teeth. Kristin was sharing the playpen with Claudia Kishi and Mary Anne Spier, Mika's and Alma's daughters who were within months of being Kristy's age. 

            "It's times like this that life feels perfect," Elizabeth commented as she went back to grilling. "Makes you forget your problems." 

            "Problems?" Mika repeated, pouring ice tea into paper cups. "Is anything wrong, Liz?" 

            Elizabeth sighed. "No. Nothing but the usual." 

            "The usual being…?" Mika left the sentence hanging in a question. 

            "It's just . . ." Elizabeth shrugged. "Patrick and I have been having some problems, that's all." 

            "What kind of problems?" asked Mika, her dark eyes shining with concern. 

            Elizabeth concentrated on flipping a burger. "Marital problems I'm sure everyone has," she said, more to assure herself than Mika. "Money, the future. Whatever." 

            "Well, if you need to talk about anything . . ." Mika offered. 

            Elizabeth smiled. "Thanks." The truth was, she and Patrick had been having problems for the past few months, especially after Kristin's birth. One of the things that had initially attracted Elizabeth to Patrick had been his ambition. But now Patrick's ambition was growing to restlessness. Even though he had a good job with an extension of Walker Stuart that was located in Stamford, Connecticut, Patrick often talked of pursuing a career in sports journalism. His favorite sport was baseball and a lot of the time, Patrick would head off to sports bars in Stamford after work to catch the games on TV before he came home. Patrick's absence was bothering Elizabeth, especially when she had to handle dinner and putting the kids to bed by herself. Whenever Elizabeth confronted Patrick, though, he got angry and Elizabeth was prone to simply letting the matter go. After all, she convinced herself, Patrick was under a lot of pressure to be the provider of the family. Elizabeth had stopped working in order to be a full-time mother, and the occasional freelance articles she wrote for the newspaper were too few and far between to contribute to providing for the family. So the role fell on Patrick, and Elizabeth knew it was getting to him, especially with a new baby. More often than not, Elizabeth ended up feeling more guilty than angry, so she let Patrick's absences pass. _After all, _she thought as she watched him toss the ball to Charlie again_, he's here when it counts. And he's a good father._

            "Hey, chef," a voice said, breaking Elizabeth from her thoughts. Elizabeth turned to see Alma Spier heading over with a smile on her face. Elizabeth grinned. "Hey yourself," she replied. "How are you doing, Alma?" 

            "Oh, fine. It's such a beautiful day, isn't it?" Alma smiled. 

            "It sure is," Elizabeth agreed. "Perfect for a picnic." Just then, the grill sizzled, and Elizabeth glanced down at the burgers. They were an interesting shade of brown. Elizabeth poked at one of them and it sizzled again. "Hey, do these look done to you?" she asked Alma uncertainly. 

            Alma shrugged. "I can't cook to save my life," she replied. "But if I had to guess, I'd say they're ready." 

            "Well, I've never done burgers before—Patrick always does it---but I'm sure these babies are ready to be eaten." Elizabeth promptly turned off the grill and called, "Hey, burgers are up!" 

            There was a mad race for the grill and for the next few minutes, everyone was busy loading up on burgers, potato chips, and coleslaw. Elizabeth took the opportunity to head inside and get a bottle for Kristin. As she rinsed out a fresh bottle and began filling it with cold milk, Alma slipped in after her. "Do you have an extra bottle?" she asked. "Mary Anne's starting to get fussy." 

            "Of course," Elizabeth replied, heading over to the cabinet to get a second bottle. "Mary Anne is such a little darling," she said to make conversation. 

            "Yes," Alma agreed. "I never really thought I would have children, but I'm so happy to have a daughter." Alma looked out the back window towards the playpen. Mary Anne was now playing with one of Kristy's blocks. Suddenly, a look of pain and sadness crossed Alma's face. It lasted only a second, but it was prominent enough for Elizabeth to notice. 

            "Are you all right, Alma?" Elizabeth asked as she handed Alma the second milk bottle. 

            Alma's smile seemed a little forced. "Oh, I'm fine," she said hurriedly. "Thank you again for the bottle, Elizabeth. I better go give it to Mary Anne." 

            With that, she had headed back into the backyard. Elizabeth was a little puzzled. Alma was a warm and lovely person who had been very welcoming when Elizabeth and Patrick first moved to the neighborhood. Elizabeth remembered Alma bringing over an applesauce cake and offering to help unpack. Yet even after four years of living next-door, Elizabeth never really got to know Alma that well. She supposed it was because she was so busy with her children. Still, Elizabeth was concerned about what was bothering Alma. She decided that she would try and get to know Alma better. Maybe Alma was just lonely. 

            *          *          *          

             "Patrick," Elizabeth said a few nights later. "Do you think we should enroll Charlie in pre-school?" 

            "Hmm?" Patrick was concentrating on the sports section of the newspaper. It was late, nearly bedtime, and Elizabeth and Patrick were in their bedroom. Elizabeth was looking over a pamphlet she'd gotten in the mail that day, advertising one of Stoneybrook's pre-schools. 

            "Pre-school," Elizabeth repeated. "For Charlie." 

            "Isn't it a little late?" Patrick asked. 

            "No, the deadline is still two days away. If we sign Charlie up now, he'll have plenty of time before school starts next Monday." 

            "How much does it cost?" Patrick turned another page in the paper. 

            "Free," Elizabeth said. "I think it would be good for Charlie to go and be around other kids. Besides, it's important that the kids get a feel for the school experience at an early age. You know, my younger sister Judy didn't start first grade until she was six and being away from home for so long every day practically traumatized her." Elizabeth laughed a little. "It took her at least a year before she even got used to the idea. I think it would be much more healthy to start our kids off with pre-school, don't you think?" 

            Patrick didn't respond. 

            Elizabeth waited a few seconds, but Patrick was engrossed in reading a full-spread article. Elizabeth peeked at the headline: "_Braves' Pitcher Injured, Could Be Out Rest of Season_." 

 Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Hey, Patrick," she said. "I heard that the Braves' have a second string pitcher who is almost as good as the one that was injured." 

            Patrick finally looked at her. "Really?" 

            "Well, now that I've got your attention," she said, adding an extra sarcastic edge to her voice. "Are you even listening to me?" 

            "Sure, Liz," Patrick said. "Charlie, pre-school. How much did you say it cost?"

            Elizabeth could feel her annoyance rising, but she pushed it back down. "It's free," she repeated patiently. "I think it would be good for him." 

            "Well, sure it would," Patrick agreed. "I don't see why not, especially if it's free. Go ahead." 

            With that, he turned back to the article. Elizabeth put the pamphlet on her nightstand, resolving to call and enroll Charlie first thing in the morning. Just then, from one of the bedrooms down the hall, Kristin began crying. Elizabeth sighed and glanced at Patrick, hoping he'd give her a break and go check on the baby. But Patrick appeared oblivious to the sound. Kristin kept crying, and Elizabeth let out her breath. "I'll go check on her," she said pointedly. Patrick nodded absently and Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she got up out of bed and headed down to Kristin's room. 

            "Hey, Miss K," she said in a singsong voice as she pushed open the door to the nursery. In her crib, Kristin was sitting up. Her cries immediately stopped as Elizabeth entered the room. Elizabeth kept going to the crib and she leaned now, scooping Kristin into her arms. "What's the matter, sweetie?" she asked. "Can't sleep?" 

            Kristin just gurgled. 

            "Well, I know just the thing that will cheer us both up," Elizabeth said. "Come on." Still holding Kristin, Elizabeth headed downstairs to the kitchen where she fixed a baby bottle and a hot cup of cocoa. "Life lesson 101," Elizabeth said conversationally. "Good, strong drinks always make everything okay." She took the drinks into the living room and sat down in the rocking chair. After she took a sip of her cocoa, she set it on the side table and then began rocking gently in the chair as she fed Kristy the baby bottle. "You know, I think that pre-school is a great idea," she said. "Your dad does too, whether he wants to be enthusiastic or not. I mean, it has to be more important than sports or journalism or whatever it is he's so fixed on these days." Elizabeth sighed. "In case he's forgotten, I love journalism too but family is more important than that. I just wish he'd realize it more often." 

            Kristin made a small sound. Glancing down, Elizabeth saw that she was pushing the bottle away. "Too much milk?" Elizabeth asked. "Well, okay. What do you say I put you back to bed so you can get a good night's sleep?" She got to her feet and headed for the stairs again, still talking. "After all, you've got a busy day tomorrow, what with sitting around looking adorable and everything." 

            Elizabeth reached Kristin's room and put her back in her crib, where Kristin immediately curled up with one of her stuffed bears. "Good night," Elizabeth said, running a hand over Kristin's soft hair. She turned out the light and left the door open just a little. Then she returned to her bedroom, expecting to find Patrick still awake with the paper. Instead, she found that Patrick had fallen asleep. One hand still held a bit of the paper but it was hanging over the side of the bed. Elizabeth stood in the doorway for a minute, just studying his familiar profile and admiring how young and innocent he looked when he was asleep. How could she be angry with him? He did his best. Elizabeth let out her breath and approached the bed. Gently, she took the newspaper from his hand and folded it up, setting it aside on the dresser. Then she adjusted the pillows behind his head and pulled one side of the comforter up to cover his body. "Good night, Patrick," she said softly, leaning down to kiss him. Patrick stirred slightly but didn't wake. Elizabeth looked at him once more, then reached up and turned off his lamp. 

            Then she went to bed. 

            *          *          *          *          

_January, 1982. Stoneybrook._

            _New Year's Resolution, _Elizabeth thought as she pushed Kristin in her baby stroller down the sidewalk on Bradford Court_. Start looking to get back in the work force. _

            Beside her, Mika, who was pushing Claudia, was chattering away about the work she was doing with the library. After her husband, John, came home from work in the afternoons, he watched the kids so that Mika could get in a few evening hours at the library. Mika was in heaven these days, since there was talk of her being promoted to assistant head librarian. Elizabeth couldn't help feeling a twinge of jealousy at Mika's happiness. It wasn't that Elizabeth herself wasn't happy, but sometimes she wished there were more to her life than taking care of the kids. She remembered graduation night back in 1969, so long ago. She'd told Hannah that she wanted to have a career, and it looked like she'd been on her way. Except here she was, being a housewife. Elizabeth loved her family, but she still couldn't help wishing that she had more. 

            "I think I'm going to go back to school," she said out loud, breaking right into Mika's conversation. 

            "What?" Mika blinked. 

            They were approaching the corner of the road, and Elizabeth took the opportunity to stop for a rest. She eased Kristin's stroller over the grass and then sat down on the curb. She was only wearing a pair of faded jeans and one of Patrick's sweatshirts, so she didn't mind that the ground was dirty. Mika, however, was dressed up, so she stood on the sidewalk a safe distance from the grass. 

            Elizabeth crossed her legs Indian-style. "Go back to school," she repeated. "I can take night classes or something, after Patrick gets home." 

            "You don't need to go back to school," Mika pointed out. "You've already got a degree in journalism." 

            "Yeah, but I can't do anything with it," Elizabeth replied. "I already know I can't be a journalist and a mom. But maybe I can do something else, like accounting or something like that." 

            Mika looked a little doubtful. "If you say so—" she began, but just then she was cut off by the sound of another stroller. "Hi!" a voice called. Elizabeth and Mika turned to see Alma Spier heading down the sidewalk towards them, pushing Mary Anne. 

            "Hello, Alma," Mika called, waving. Elizabeth also smiled, getting to her feet and brushing off the back of her jeans. 

            "Alma, how are you doing?" Elizabeth asked warmly. 

            Alma managed a small smile. "I'm here," she replied. "I'm good." 

            Elizabeth nodded, studying Alma a little critically. The previous fall, Elizabeth found out that Alma had been diagnosed with a serious illness. She was pretty sick, and the doctors weren't sure exactly how long she had. Just thinking that made Elizabeth sad. Alma was so sweet and caring and it wasn't fair that she may not live long enough to even see her daughter grow up. 

            Elizabeth pushed the thoughts from her mind. "We were just discussing careers," she said instead. "I'm thinking of going back to school and getting a degree in accounting." 

            "Oh, that sounds nice," Alma said. 

            "Yes," Elizabeth agreed. "I think it would be a good change for me." 

            Mika changed the subject. "I've got an idea," she said. "Let's get inside out of this cold weather and have some nice, strong, hot tea. We can talk more once we're not freezing." She grinned. 

            "You've got a point," Alma agreed, laughing. "Let's go." 

            Elizabeth spent the rest of the afternoon with Mika and Alma. They gathered in Mika's kitchen and drank tea and talked about everything under the sun while their three daughters played together in the playpen. Patrick had taken the afternoon off and was at home with Charlie and Sam, to which Elizabeth was grateful. The more time she spent with her friends, the better it was. She could feel herself relaxing. By the time evening fell and it was time that Elizabeth had to head home, she felt closer than ever to Mika and especially Alma. 

            *          *          *          *          

            A siren was wailing. Elizabeth, who was in a state of deep sleep, could hear the sound and it intertwined with her dreams, creating a disturbing buzz. Gradually, she was aware that someone was saying her name. "Elizabeth," someone said. "Liz, wake up." 

            Elizabeth groaned as she opened her eyes. Her bedroom was dark and shadowy around her; the only light was coming from the small electrical clock on the nightstand. 3:47 am. Was Kristin crying? Elizabeth was confused. 

            "Elizabeth," the voice said again. It was Patrick. Elizabeth turned over to face him. Patrick was sitting up, reaching for the small lamp on his side. "Patrick?" Elizabeth murmured. "What's wrong?" 

            "I think someone is knocking at the door," Patrick replied. Elizabeth frowned, and a second later she heard a faint pounding from downstairs. Patrick seemed annoyed. "Who on earth is knocking at three in the damned morning?" he grumbled as he swung his legs out of bed and reached for his robe. Elizabeth followed his lead and reached out for her terry-cloth robe, which was slung over her desk chair. She sat up and pulled her robe on over her pajamas before running a hand through her sleep-tousled blonde hair. Patrick was already heading downstairs. "Wait," Elizabeth said as she hurried after him. Together, they made their way down the stairs and into the front hall. Patrick flipped on a light and swung open the door. "What in the hell—" he started to say, but the sight of Richard Spier standing there cut him off. 

            Richard was holding Mary Anne in his arms, and on his face was a look of total distress. "Richard, what's wrong?" Elizabeth asked immediately. "Are you okay?" 

            Richard shook his head. "I'm sorry to barge over here like this," he said, "but I'm afraid I'm having an emergency. Alma stopped breathing in her sleep. I called 911 and she was just taken to the hospital on respitory support, and I need to go over there. I'm sorry to ask this, but can I leave Mary Anne here? The hospital isn't the best place for an infant, especially at this time of night." 

            "Of course!" Elizabeth stepped forward to collect Mary Anne from his arms. "Do you need anything else? A ride to the hospital, maybe?" 

            "No, I've got it," Richard replied. "Thank you so much, Elizabeth. And Patrick. Like I said, I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience—" 

            "Don't even worry about it," Elizabeth but him off. She touched his shoulder gently. "You can always count on us." 

            "Yeah, it's no trouble," Patrick finally said. 

            "Thank you," Richard said, looking incredibly relieved. 

            Elizabeth nodded. "I hope she's okay," she whispered. 

            Richard nodded. "Thanks again," he replied. With that, he had turned and headed back to his own yard. Elizabeth closed the door and looked up at Patrick. Patrick looked a little exhausted, but still concerned. "Is she going to be okay?" he asked. 

            "I hope so." Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears at the thought of Alma, and she blinked rapidly. Then she turned her attention to Mary Anne, who looked calm despite the chaos around her. "Come on, Mary Anne," she said quietly. "I'm going to give you some milk and then you can sleep in Kristin's room. It'll be your very first sleepover, isn't that fun?" 

            Patrick hesitated. "Do you need me to do anything, Liz?" he asked. 

            Elizabeth shook her head. "Thanks, Patrick, but I've got it. Why don't you get back to bed? You need some sleep before you're supposed to wake up." 

            Patrick nodded and touched her arm, then turned and headed back up the stairs. Elizabeth busied herself with fixing a bottle for Mary Anne and then sitting down in her rocking chair. As she fed the bottle to Mary Anne, she couldn't help looking at the small girl's infant face, and as she took in the young features, she felt her heart wrench. Alma may not pull through, and poor Mary Anne wouldn't have a mother. Elizabeth couldn't imagine going through childhood and adolescence without Hannah. Hell, she needed Hannah even now that she was grown up and married. Elizabeth's thoughts drifted to her own children and she felt guilty for ever thinking that being a mother wasn't enough. Some people, like Alma, may never get that chance at all. 

            Elizabeth finished feeding Mary Anne and then carried her upstairs to Kristin's bedroom. Kristin, who was sound asleep, didn't even stir as Elizabeth gently laid Mary Anne in the crib. "Everything's going to be okay, Mary Anne," Elizabeth said. Just then, the phone rang. Elizabeth practically flew from the bedroom down the hall to her own bedroom. Patrick, who hadn't quite gotten back to sleep, reached for the phone. "Hello?" he said. "Yes.  yes. . . oh, no . . . no, of course. . . right. . .  I'm really sorry . . . okay. All right . . . goodbye." He hung up the phone and turned to Elizabeth, who was clenching her fists so tight that her knuckles had turned white. "What happened?" she asked. 

            Patrick's eyes looked sad. "That was Richard," he said. "They couldn't revive Alma . . . they're still doing tests to find out just why she stopped breathing, but she . . . she didn't make it." 

            Elizabeth stared at him for a couple of seconds, letting the news sink in. Then her face crumpled. "Oh, Patrick," she said, letting out a sob. Patrick immediately enfolded her in his arms and held her close. Elizabeth couldn't cry, she was too shocked and saddened. She just held onto Patrick tightly, feeling sorrow like never before. Poor Alma…poor Richard and Mary Anne. 

            As if she knew what was happening, Mary Anne started wailing from down the hall. Elizabeth pulled back, wiping her eyes. "I should go to her," she said. 

            "I'll get her," he offered. "Get some sleep, okay, Liz? I told Richard that Mary Anne could stay here until he gets back from the hospital tomorrow. Everything's going to be fine." 

            Elizabeth nodded. Patrick helped her lay down and even tucked her in. Elizabeth couldn't remember the last time Patrick had been so attentive and helpful and understanding, but she appreciated it. "Thanks, Patrick," she whispered. 

            He nodded and kissed her forehead, and Elizabeth dozed into a troubled sleep. 

            *          *          *          

_June, 1983. Stoneybrook, Connecticut._

            Elizabeth hurried down her front walkway towards the mailbox. She was expecting a confirmation letter in the mail any day now, confirming that she was registered for two night classes at Stoneybrook University. It had taken awhile, but she'd finally convinced Patrick that this would be good for her. So in exchange for her going to school on Monday and Wednesday nights, Patrick would go on Tuesday and Thursday nights for a journalism course. Elizabeth was happy about the arrangement. 

            She crossed the sidewalk and opened the mailbox, but instead of finding her letter, she found a magazine offer and a couple of bills. "Darn," she murmured. 

            Just as she was closing her mailbox, the sound of stroller wheels got her attention. She looked up in time to see Richard Spier approaching her, pushing Mary Anne in her stroller. The mere sight was enough to cause a lump to form in Elizabeth's throat. After Alma's death, Richard had been so torn apart that he'd sent Mary Anne to live with Alma's parents in Maynard, Iowa. Mary Anne had been gone about a year and a half, and had just returned to Stoneybrook a couple of weeks before. Richard had sent for her because he missed her and he felt that he could take care of his baby. Elizabeth was so glad to see father and daughter reunited. Two-year-old Mary Anne looked pleased about it too. 

            "Hi, Richard," Elizabeth said as she approached the stroller and checked in on Mary Anne. "Hey there," Elizabeth continued, talking to Mary Anne. "How are you doing?" 

            "Look at my little girl," Richard said proudly. "Isn't she beautiful?" Richard smiled at Elizabeth, and it was the first time she'd seen him smile since Alma died. The lump in Elizabeth's throat grew bigger. "She is," Elizabeth agreed, with tears in her eyes. "I'm glad to see her back." 

            "Me too," Richard agreed. He smiled again and started to push the stroller on down the sidewalk. Elizabeth watched him, remembering seeing Alma push the same stroller down the same walk. Mary Anne didn't have a mother anymore, but she had a wonderful father. Elizabeth knew that everything would be okay. 

            *          *          *


	6. Part VI: The Final Goodbye

_Author's Notes: This chapter contains some strong language. Disclaimer: The lyrics at the end of the chapter are not my own, they belong to Michelle Branch. That said, I hope everyone likes it. ---Slayer          _

Chapter Six. 

 _A few years later, Stoneybrook, Connecticut._

"Home run!" Kristy Thomas screeched, loudly enough for Elizabeth and Patrick to hear it clearly from where they sat in the stands. Elizabeth hopped to her feet and yelled, "Go, Kristy!" as Kristy took off from home plate, running around the bases as fast as her little legs would take her. Elizabeth and Patrick were cheering as one of the boys on the other team fumbled for the ball. Too late. As soon as he managed to toss it back infield, Kristy was already safely cruising across home plate. Elizabeth put her fingers in her mouth and let loose a loud whistle. 

            "Can you believe how good she is?" Patrick said excitedly as they sat down again. "I mean, when I was six years old, I couldn't even lift a bat. I was such a little weakling." He laughed. 

            Elizabeth smiled as she spotted Kristy in the dugout, exchanging high fives with her teammates. Six-year-old Kristy was as in love with baseball as Patrick was, and this Sunday afternoon was her first official baseball game. True, it was only tee-ball, but it was a big thrill for the child. And she was good at it, too. Her home run had been the first one of the game, which put Kristy's team, Carter's Groceries, in the lead. 

            The rest of the game passed fairly quickly. Kristy was up to bat two more times and each time, she at least got on base. At fielding, she was better than any of the other kids on the team, even the boys. By the time the game had ended, Carter's Groceries had won, 10-7. "Good game," some of the players were shouting. Elizabeth began to gather up her things to meet Kristy, but Patrick was way ahead of her; he was already trotting towards the field. "I'll catch you later," he called over his shoulder. 

            "Yeah, don't help with the baby or anything," Elizabeth muttered under her breath as she scooped nine-month-old David Michael into her arms. David Michael had been a bit of a surprise to Elizabeth and Patrick, one Elizabeth suspected Patrick had never gotten over. He barely paid any attention to David Michael at all; in fact, since learning of Elizabeth's pregnancy, Patrick had been more distant than ever. Elizabeth took care of David Michael almost completely alone, and she was tired of it. At this rate, she may as well not even have a husband. 

            She made her way down the stands and started for the field. "Mom!" a voice called, and a second later Elizabeth was bombarded with Sam and Charlie. The two boys were covered in dirt from head to toe, and each of them seemed to think it was a great idea to fling themselves on Elizabeth. Elizabeth gritted her teeth, fighting her urge to scream. The only thing worse than being stressed out and caring for a baby was being stressed out, caring for a baby, and having a ten year old and an eight year old who were in love with dirt. 

            "Mom," Sam said anxiously, tugging at Elizabeth's sleeve with one grubby hand. "Guess what game Charlie taught me!" 

            "I can only imagine," Elizabeth said. 

            "King of the Hill," Sam went on excitedly. 

            "Yeah, and it involves a lot of dirt, I can see." Elizabeth sighed. "Charlie, take Sam to the car. We'll be along in a minute and as soon as we get home, it's the showers for you two." 

            "But I like dirt," Sam insisted. "The way pigs like mud, you know?" 

            "Showers," Elizabeth repeated. "Long ones." 

            Sam pouted, but Charlie grabbed his arm and said, "Come on Sam, don't make Mom mad." 

            Charlie took off for the car, practically dragging Sam behind him. Elizabeth had to smile. Even though he was only ten, Charlie was like a little old man. That was what all of her friends told her. He was extremely mature for his age. Except when it came to dirt, she had to amend to herself. 

            Just then, Kristy arrived. "Mom, I won the game," she said happily. Elizabeth stepped back and looked at Kristy critically. The girl was small for her age and she had a mop of tousled brown hair sticking out from underneath her too-big baseball cap. She was smudged with red clay from the playing field. "You're a mess," Elizabeth said with a smile. 

            "Can we go out to eat?" Kristy asked as they started in the direction of the parking lot. "Dad says he wants to take me out for a superstar lunch." She grinned up at Patrick. Elizabeth glanced at her husband questioningly, and Patrick said, "Why not?" 

            "We've got to get these kids cleaned up," Elizabeth insisted. "No decent restaurant would let them within ten feet of the front door." 

            "Sam says dirt is cool," Kristy commented. 

            Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but Patrick just laughed. "Kids will be kids," he said. He glanced at his watch. "Actually, Liz, I gotta run. I'm supposed to be in Stamford soon. My friend Dave is meeting me there and we're going to see the Stamford Bears play the Atlanta Braves. Talk about an opportunity." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and started to jog off towards his own car. 

            "Patrick!" Elizabeth cried. "What about the kids?" 

            "Get them cleaned up and take them out," he called over his shoulder. "You can use some of the grocery money; it's in my sock drawer. Bye!" 

            "But . . ." It was useless; Elizabeth's words were lost on the wind. Patrick was almost out of sight. Just then, David Michael started wailing, at the exact same moment that Kristy tripped on a stick and went flying. She howled as her knee skidded over the ground and bled. Elizabeth took a deep breath as she rushed forward, trying to calm both Kristy and David Michael. 

            She vowed to kill Patrick later. 

*          *          *          *

            Much, much later that evening, Elizabeth stood at the kitchen counter, pouring herself a tall glass of scotch. Elizabeth wasn't a heavy drinker, but even so, this was her third glass of scotch that night. Elizabeth allowed the warm liquid to flow through her body, giving her strength. Her intoxicant reminded her briefly of her father, who would come home every night to a glass of scotch and his newspaper. Elizabeth's father had passed away earlier that year and Hannah had moved to a small apartment only forty minutes from Elizabeth's home in Stoneybrook. 

Thinking of her parents caused Elizabeth's eyes to well with tears, and to avoid crying, she took a long sip of her drink as she left the kitchen and headed out into the front hall, staring out one of the side windows. It had rained that evening and now the outside world was cool and damp, with a light, balmy breeze. Elizabeth pushed the window open a crack to get a better feel for the fresh air. It was May and springtime was just blossoming at its best after a long, cold winter. Even so, Elizabeth didn't take comfort in the weather. She glanced at the clock on the mantle behind her as it ticked over to 2:45 a.m. 

As if on cue, the front door swung open. Elizabeth's back was turned and as she heard Patrick slip inside, she didn't bother to turn around. She kept staring out the side window, focusing on a small leaf on the rhododendron bush outside, dripping with late raindrops.  She listened as Patrick silently closed the door behind him and made his way to her. "Sorry," he said simply. 

            Elizabeth kept staring out the window, trying to compose herself, slowly counting to ten. _One raindrop . . .two raindrops . . . three raindrops . . . _Elizabeth was furious. Patrick had never come home from his big baseball game in Stamford, and he'd never called either. Elizabeth would have been worried, but this wasn't the first time that Patrick had failed to come home after being out. It was almost becoming a tradition for him and the basis of the regular fights that they had. Even though Elizabeth wasn't particularly in a fighting mood, she was too upset to let his absence pass. 

She turned around to face Patrick. He was still standing behind her, wearing a half-apologetic, half-blank expression. For a second, she saw the young kid she'd spilled soda on outside a dorm hall in the 1970's. The man standing before her now was as handsome as ever, even with his hair damp, dressed in a long black trench coat over his jeans and t-shirt. But there was something missing in his eyes. Something that showed he cared. 

            "What time is it?" Elizabeth said finally. 

            Patrick shrugged. "I know I'm late, Liz, but---" 

            "What _time_ is it?" she cut him off. 

            Patrick sighed. "I don't know, two or three I guess." 

            "Two-forty five. In the morning. That must have been one hell of a game," she snapped. 

"After the game, Dave and I went out with some people," Patrick said monotonously, as if he'd rehearsed the words. "We shot some pool and had a few drinks. Is that okay with you?" 

"Are you crazy? Of course it's not okay with me! I might excuse it if this was the first time, but this is the fourth time this week that you haven't been here. Not to mention that you completely deserted me at the baseball field today. So, yet again, I had to take care of four kids by myself, making up excuses for you. Do you know Kristy waited until almost midnight for you to come read her a story? That I had to tell her that, yet again, her daddy wasn't going to read her a story tonight? Can you even imagine the _look _on her face?" 

            The tiniest look of guilt passed through Patrick's eyes, but then it was replaced with irritation. "I _said_ I'm sorry, Elizabeth," he said. "What more do you want? I was having fun. I think I deserve to have fun once in awhile." 

            "Once in awhile?" she repeated. "Wake up, Patrick. Your whole life is having fun. I can't even remember the last time you were here for me or any of the kids. You're always out having fun." Elizabeth's voice was shaking with anger.  

            "The last time I was here for you?" Patrick repeated. "How about when I get up at six am every morning to go out and make a living for you and the kids? Is that being there enough for you?" 

            "It's not just the money, Patrick. Shouldn't there be more to this family than just making a living?" Elizabeth demanded. "Charlie wants to go fishing, and Sam wants you to help him with his math, and Kristy needs someone to toss a softball to her after dinner. Among other things. When are you going to start being their father, Patrick?" She meant it. She did understand that he was the provider of the family, especially that he'd taken a second job with the newspaper as a freelance sportswriter. But it didn't matter if he were a millionaire if he wasn't actually going to _be there_ for anyone.  

            Patrick looked good and angry now. He muttered something under his breath and then turned and walked into the kitchen. Elizabeth could hear him slamming open a cabinet. Elizabeth followed him into the kitchen and saw that he was pouring himself a glass of water. "Don't walk away from me, Patrick," she said. 

            Patrick took a long swallow of water and then slammed the glass down on the counter. "I'll do whatever I damn please," he replied. "I am sick of this, Elizabeth. Do you know what my life is like? I get up early every morning and I work hard all day long at a job I hate, just so I can put a roof over your head and put food on the table. Then I work nights and weekends throwing together stories so that I can actually do something that I _do_ like, and you punish me for it. I've sacrificed just as much as you have and I am sick to death of nothing being good enough for you. I'm sick of coming home and having you in my face about how much I don't do. Well, guess what, Elizabeth? I can tell you right now that I would probably be much happier if we'd never gotten married. At least then I wouldn't have to put up with any bullshit from my nagging wife, I can tell you that." 

            Elizabeth stared at him for a few minutes before she was able to find her voice. "Well, if we hadn't gotten married then I wouldn't have to put up with bullshit from my irresponsible, _childish _husband." Her voice rose. "Grow_ up_, Patrick. I'm sorry you actually have to work for a living to support your family but that's just how it is." 

            "Yeah? Says who?" Patrick shot back. "My motto's always been, if you don't like it, leave it." 

            "Screw your motto," Elizabeth snapped. "You can't just up and leave something because it's convenient. You've made a commitment, Patrick. To me and to those kids." 

            Patrick looked disgusted. "Screw _commitment_," he shot back. "When is it my turn to do what I want to do?" 

"And what do you want to do, Patrick?" Elizabeth demanded. "Go be a big sports writer? Live off of baseball? No responsibilities, no duties, nothing but your goddamned journalism? Guess what, Patrick---I went to school for _four years_ for journalism. I left the _New York Times_ so I could be your wife and have your children. Do you think that was easy for me? No, it damned well wasn't, but you don't see me sitting around whining about it, do you?" 

"You're whining right now," Patrick said. 

"This isn't whining. This is me trying to get some sense through your thick skull! When are you going to get _over_ yourself and just do what you have to do? Everybody does." 

"Well, I'm not everybody," Patrick replied. "And you're right, I would be much happier being a full-time sportswriter. Doesn't my happiness count for anything?" 

"It would if you weren't so selfish about it," Elizabeth bit out. 

"Selfish, huh?" Patrick looked maliciously amused as he shook his head and downed the rest of his water. When he spoke again, his voice was strangely flat; decisive. "I don't have to deal with this, Elizabeth." He turned to the scotch bottle that she'd left on the counter and poured some into his glass, then raised it to her in a mock toast. "So here's to you, Liz. Here's to this whole fucking family." With that, he downed the scotch in one gulp and then hurled the glass to the floor. It shattered all over the ceramic tile. Elizabeth jumped back as tears filled her eyes and before she could stop, they spilled over her cheeks. 

Patrick glanced at her, but her tears seemed to mean nothing to him. He just snorted and shook his head and then headed for the stairs. Elizabeth stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the broken glass. After a minute, she wiped her eyes and noticed that her hands were shaking. Even so, she couldn't leave the glass on the floor. It was a tall crystal one that had once been Hannah's. Now it lay in pieces. Elizabeth took a deep breath and tried to compose herself as she knelt down and began picking up the shards of glass. 

It wasn't easy. She was still shaking and she managed to slice herself when she picked up a particularly sharp piece. Elizabeth blinked as she watched blood start to appear, trickling over her hands from the wound. 

She may have sat there for ages if Kristy hadn't come downstairs. Elizabeth heard a small voice say, "Mom? What's going on?"

Elizabeth whirled and saw Kristy standing there, clutching one of her baby dolls in her arms. Her eyes were big brown question marks as she took in the glass on the floor. Then she noticed the blood. "Mom! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Elizabeth said. "Go back to bed, Kristy." 

"But Mom—" Kristy started to walk towards her mother. 

"Go!" Elizabeth snapped. "Don't walk in here; you'll cut your feet." 

Kristy stopped immediately. "I'm sorry." Her voice trembled, almost in fear, and Elizabeth let out her breath as she got to her feet. "It's okay, Kristy, but please go back to sleep, okay? It was just a little accident. I'll clean it up." 

"Are you sure?" 

Elizabeth nodded. "Good night, Kristy." 

Kristy hesitated for another minute before turning and fleeing back upstairs. Elizabeth sighed and went over to the sink, washing off her hands. She finished cleaning up the glass mess and then put a band-aid over the wound on her hand. Yet when she began to head up the stairs to sleep, she found herself dreading being with Patrick. She couldn't face him. Not after the things he'd said. She replayed their fight in her mind, every last hurtful word slicing through her heart like a jagged sword. It was time for her to realize that she and Patrick were having _serious_ problems. 

She couldn't deal with it now. 

So she went to the linen closet for an extra pillow and blanket, and she slept on the couch that night. 

*          *          *          *

Elizabeth overslept the next morning. She awoke to the sound of David Michael crying from upstairs. Elizabeth groggily sat up, trying to orient herself. Then she glanced at her watch and let out a yelp. It was almost 10:00 am. She was supposed to have been up by seven so she could get the kids off to school. 

"Damn it," she cursed under her breath as she hopped off the couch and hurried upstairs. "Sam! Charlie! Kristy! It's time to get to school! Guys?" 

There was no answer. Once she got upstairs, she saw that the children's bedroom doors were open and the rooms were empty. Elizabeth was confused, but David Michael's crying was persistent. She went to his bedroom and hurriedly changed his diaper and gave him a bottle. Then, carrying him with her downstairs, she found a note on the kitchen table. She picked it up and recognized Charlie's scrawl immediately. 

_"Dear Mom, I know you are tired so I told Sam and Kristy not to wake you up. We got to school okay and I made us lunch. Don't worry. Love, Charlie." _

_My little old man_, Elizabeth thought in amusement as she put the letter back on the table. At least the kids were taken care of. Elizabeth set about putting David Michael in his baby swing and then she went up to her bedroom to take a shower. 

When she got to her room, the first thing she noticed was the bareness. The room was always a little disorganized, but today it was tidy. The bed was made and a lot of the clutter that took up Patrick's desk and nightstand was gone. Going to the closet, she found that some of his clothes were gone as well. _That's strange_, she thought to herself as she took her robe from the closet. She didn't think much of it while she took her shower and washed her hair. It was only later, when she opened the dresser drawer to get out her hairdryer, that she noticed that Patrick's socks and underwear, along with the envelope of grocery money, was gone. 

Elizabeth began to feel strange. She slowly closed the drawer and looked at the closet again. The typewriter case that usually sat on the closet floor was gone. She walked closer to the closet and opened the door all the way, peering off to the sides. That was when she noticed that one of the big suitcases was missing, as well. 

Suddenly, the realization hit her full force, and she sat down hard on the edge of her bed. Her thoughts went back to the fight last night. Patrick was gone. _Oh my . . . Elizabeth_ took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself as she jumped to her feet, pacing as she raked her hands through her wet, tangled hair._ Think calmly, Liz_, she thought_. Patrick can't be completely gone. He probably just left to cool down. He'll be back in a few days. He always comes back._

But Patrick didn't come back. Elizabeth kept going as if things were normal, putting up a front for her children and telling them that their dad was working, or out, when they questioned his absence. A few days grew into a week, and then two weeks. Finally, Elizabeth had to face the obvious. Patrick _wasn't_ coming back. Days passed and his car never pulled up in the driveway, and he never came in late, and he didn't call or send any letters. Elizabeth wanted to scream and cry and panic, but for the kids' sake, she couldn't. 

She finally told them, on a late August day, a few days after Kristy's seventh birthday. But she figured by then, they knew it anyway. Even Kristy. Elizabeth tried to explain it in terms that they could understand. "Daddy's going to be gone for awhile," she said. "Nobody did anything wrong and you know that even if he's not here, he loves you. And I'm not going anywhere. We'll all be a family together." 

They accepted it and, just like that, their lives went on. Elizabeth, who only had a few more classes left to complete her accounting degree, kept going to night school. Charlie helped a lot, too. He made peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches for lunches, learned how to wash clothes, and kept an eye on Sam and Kristy while Elizabeth was busy with David Michael. Elizabeth also took a job at a company in Stamford, as a secretary. Hannah came over to watch the kids whenever Elizabeth had to be in school or at work. It was a struggle, but they made the best of it. 

            For a long time, Elizabeth didn't speak of Patrick. Not until the fall season came and went, the first Christmas without him passed, and another spring season arrived. It was on a warm June evening that Elizabeth saw Patrick again. In retrospect, she should have expected to hear from him _eventually_; technically, they were still married, since there hadn't been any divorce proceedings yet. Nevertheless, when Elizabeth was walking to her car that night after work, she was startled when she heard him call her. "Elizabeth." 

            Elizabeth recognized his voice immediately; she had been hearing it in her dreams every night for a year. She turned, half-expecting it to be an illusion. But no. There he was, looking exactly the same as always. His hair was a little shorter, but otherwise, he was Patrick. He stood just a few feet away in the early dusk shadows, patiently waiting for her to get over her shock. 

            "What are you doing here?" she finally managed to say. 

            "I spoke to your mother," Patrick said, approaching. "She told me where I could find you." He grinned a little. "Although she certainly wasn't happy to hear from me, I can tell you that." 

            Elizabeth didn't think; she just reacted. She brought up her right hand and swung at him, her fist connecting solidly with his jaw. Patrick grimaced, rubbing at his jaw. When Elizabeth spoke again, her voice was cold, trembling with rage. "How _dare_ you?" she said. "You desert me, and I don't hear from you for _months,_ and now you show up, all cocky like nothing's the matter, and you dare drag my mother into this? I'd really like to know what the _hell _you're trying to do!" 

            Patrick sighed. "Look, don't fight with me, Liz. That's not what I'm here for." 

            Elizabeth crossed her arms. "Then what are you here for?" 

            "We have to talk," he said. "There's still our marriage to think about. And---" he shrugged. "I want to make it right between us. And the kids. I . . . miss them." 

            Elizabeth exhaled. If it were up to _her_, she'd send him walking. But there were her kids to think about. She couldn't deny them having a father just because she was angry. "All right," she said finally. "Talk."

            Patrick smiled. "Can we go somewhere?" 

            They ended up at a restaurant not far from Elizabeth's office. Elizabeth made sure to call Hannah at the house and tell her what was going on. "I don't know when I'll be home," she concluded, "but don't tell the kids. About Patrick, I mean. I don't know what's going to happen, but I don't want them to know he's here unless I know he's going to stay." 

            "All right," Hannah agreed. "Good luck, Elizabeth." 

            "Thanks," Elizabeth whispered. 

            From the background on Hannah's end, Elizabeth heard Kristy shout, "Nannie, is that Mom? Can I talk?" 

            Elizabeth smiled. "Tell Kristy I'm in a hurry, but I love her and I'll see her later." 

            "I will," Hannah said. "Bye, Elizabeth." 

            "Bye." 

            Elizabeth hung up the phone and then made her way back to where Patrick was sitting. Patrick looked totally comfortable as he scanned the menu, but Elizabeth was still a little wary as she slid in her seat across from him. "So," she said. "What are we going to do?" 

            Patrick carefully avoided her question as the waiter arrived. He ordered for both of them quickly, which might have annoyed Elizabeth any other time. But this time, she hardly noticed. She didn't have much of an appetite anyway. 

            Patrick began talking. And talking. Elizabeth learned that he'd been working his way around the country, for magazines and newspapers. He had made it as far as California, where he'd lived for a few months in San Francisco before returning to Stoneybrook. Elizabeth was surprised to hear that he'd already been in Stoneybrook for a couple of weeks. 

            Strangely, the small talk relaxed Elizabeth, and she found herself responding, telling him how they'd been doing. She told him about Kristy's graduation to regular Little League baseball, and how Sam was doing excellent at his math and how Charlie had been taking care of everyone. She told him that she was only one class from her degree and once she got it, she had a promotion coming her way. 

            They talked for a long time, the small talk growing into deeper issues. They talked about what had gone wrong in their marriage and whether they wanted to work it out or if it would be best to split. Patrick told her that he wanted to continue pursuing his career, and to do that he needed to travel. He felt that if he returned home only to be gone all the time, it would make things even worse. Reluctantly, Elizabeth had to agree. The issues would never go away as long as Patrick remained the way he was, and from the look of it, he had no intention of changing. 

            In a strange way, it was as if they were making their peace with one another. 

_*Of all the things I believed in_

_I just want to get it over with_

_Tears form behind my eyes_

_But I do not cry_

_Counting the days that pass me by_

_I keep searching deep down in my soul_

_Words that I'm hearing are starting to get old_

_Feels like I'm starting all over again_

_The last three years were just pretend*_

Elizabeth and Patrick stayed at the restaurant until it closed. Elizabeth checked her watch as they headed out to the parking lot and saw that it was nearly one in the morning. 

They walked to their cars and Elizabeth felt a lump in her throat as she saw Patrick's familiar car parked beside hers in the lot. Somehow, deep in her, she knew that she'd never see it parked like that in their driveway again. 

Patrick knew it, too. "I, uh, I know a lawyer," he said, clearing his throat. "He can draw up the papers." 

Elizabeth nodded, but in her mind, she was going back through their personal timeline. College, New York, marriage. Their first date, first kisses, the proposal, their wedding night, their happiness after Charlie was born, their first apartment together in New York, their house in Stoneybrook, their children, late nights, lazy mornings, long talks, passionate embraces. The memories were intertwined with annoyances, arguments, and disappearances. Shadows of time that were long gone, places they could never again go, and things they could never again say. Somewhere along the line, their happiness and love had faded. Elizabeth knew it; she knew it from the day Patrick had turned up missing. They could never go back to the way that they were before; both were too altered by time and events to be happy together. 

Even if she already knew it, it still hurt. As Elizabeth turned to face Patrick, she couldn't help the tears that filled her eyes. The tears came from deep within her, from a heart breaking, crushing pain that only time would heal. This was different from when Patrick first left. This time it was real. Final. 

Unlike that last night that they were together, this time Patrick didn't scoff at her tears. Instead, his own eyes grew misty. Hesitantly, he reached for her and Elizabeth didn't pull away. She let him pull her into one last embrace, resting her chin on his shoulder and breathing in the familiar smell of the cologne he'd worn for years. He didn't say anything, just held her. Elizabeth allowed some of her tears to fall; she was crying for herself, and for him. For what they'd shared and lost. Because, despite everything that had happened, she _had _loved him. 

Suddenly, it was important that he know that. Elizabeth pulled away slightly and looked into his eyes. "I love you," she whispered, so inaudibly that she almost couldn't hear herself. But Patrick knew. He nodded and replied, just as quietly, "I love you too." 

She allowed him to kiss her, even though it was a bittersweet kiss, filled with pain and longing. Elizabeth couldn't understand how fate could let her fall in love with this person, only to have it so that they could never be married happily. Patrick would never be happy as a husband and father, and Elizabeth couldn't live with him like that. She thought back to the night he proposed, a cold Christmas Eve. She'd told herself that all you needed was love, but now she knew that it wasn't true. She loved Patrick, but you needed trust and commitment, and she would never have that with him. Love was never enough. And goodbye was always goodbye. 

_*I still get lost in your eyes_

_And it seems that I can't live a day without you_

_Closing my eyes, and you chase my thoughts away_

_To a place where I am blinded by the light_

_But it's not right_

_Goodbye to you, goodbye to everything that I knew_

_You were the one I loved_

_The one thing that I tried to hold onto*_

            When they pulled away from one another, Patrick pulled a letter from his pocket. "I wrote this," he said. "In case you wouldn't speak to me. But I want you to have it anyway. It's how I feel—along with a forwarding address where you or the kids can reach me." 

            Elizabeth nodded, taking the letter. "Keep in touch, for their sake," she said. 

            "I'll try," he said. 

            With that, he turned. Elizabeth backed away, still clutching the letter, as he walked to his car and got in. He turned and looked at her once, and their eyes met a final time, communicating without words. Then Patrick closed the car door and turned on the engine. Elizabeth watched as he pulled from the parking space and turned to drive away. For a second, she was caught in the headlights and his face was blocked from view. Then Patrick tapped the horn and went on past, turning onto the highway and driving out of sight. 

            Elizabeth watched for a few more minutes, trying to digest everything that had happened that night. She knew it was over—really and truly. She just hoped that he would keep his promise to stay in touch with the children. 

            Elizabeth let out her breath. Then she turned and headed for her own car. 

            *          *          *          *

            _Dear Elizabeth, _

_                        I know you're probably furious at me. I don't blame you, because looking at it from your point, there's no excuse for leaving you. I don't know what happened; I suppose I just lost it. I couldn't stand what I was doing to you and to us. I wasn't happy, and my unhappiness was making you miserable, and I couldn't deal with it. I thought that the best thing to do would be to take off for a few days, give you some space. But the more I stayed gone, the harder it was to come back. For the first time in a long time, I felt like myself again. I could do what I wanted and I could have another chance, both at life and at a career. But looking back, I can see how irresponsible and selfish it was of me. I don't blame you if you never speak to me again, because I do deserve it for what I did to you. It's hard to write this letter, because even though I know I was wrong, and I miss you, I still can't bring myself to go back permanently. Maybe it is selfish, but I want to be happy and this is the only way I know how. I'm sorry for all the things I've said to you, especially the hurtful things, because I do love you. I just can't be with you. I hope you understand and I hope that one day, you can find it in your heart to forgive me. _

_            I'm going to move in with a friend of mine in Sausalito, California. I have the address written on an attached page and I will send you a phone number once I've got it. Please give my love to Charlie, Sam, Kristy, and David Michael. _

_Love,_

_Patrick_

            It was close to dawn before Elizabeth made it back to Stoneybrook. She'd sat in her car and read Patrick's letter, then driven around aimlessly, trying to get her bearings back. 

            The suburban streets were quiet when she pulled up; sunlight was just beginning to flicker on the gray, early-morning streets. Elizabeth got out of her car and took a deep breath, looking at her house. This was her main job now; even though she'd lost her marriage, she still had her children. They had to keep taking care of one another. They had to keep living. 

            Elizabeth made her way inside and upstairs. As she passed the bedrooms, she saw that all the doors were open. Kristy had bunked with Charlie and Sam; she was asleep in a bundle on the floor. Across the hall, David Michael was sleeping in his cradle while Hannah dozed in the nearby rocking chair. Elizabeth smiled, thinking to herself that she ought to take a couple of pictures. 

            In her own bedroom, she crossed over to the dresser and pulled out her jewelry box. She took Patrick's letter from her pocket and turned it over in her hands a few times before she gently laid it down inside the jewelry box. Then she slid off her wedding band and her engagement ring. For a few minutes, she just looked at them, the memories still playing in her mind. Elizabeth allowed herself a bittersweet smile before laying the wedding rings down on top of the letter. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling as if she'd just shut a door on her past. 

            After a few moments, Elizabeth closed the jewelry box and put it in one of her drawers. 

_*Goodbye to you_

_Goodbye to everything that I knew_

_You were the one I loved_

_The one thing that I tried to hold onto_

_The one thing that I tried to hold onto_

_And when the stars fall, I will lie awake_

_You're my shooting star*_

**The End **


	7. Epilogue, Author Notes

General Author's Notes: 

Firstly, I hope everyone liked this story. I decided to end it without going further along in the BSC timeline because I think we all pretty much know what happens next, with what can be pieced together about Elizabeth's life from the BSC books: she gets a good job, meets Watson Brewer, etc. Therefore, I only took the story up to Patrick's desertion.

Regarding Patrick: I searched through BSC books to find something that may give more detail to the actual circumstances of his leaving, but could find nothing except dropped hints about his not being able to handle the responsibility. Therefore, I used my own imagination to piece together the details and I hope the finished product is something that is satisfactory. I wanted to show another side to Patrick, instead of him being just the "absentee dad" that was described in the books. I also included the final scene between Elizabeth and Patrick because I feel that it was meaningful to their relationship and that it shows how, even though two people can love each other, and even though Patrick was good at heart, sometimes things just don't work out. 

To reply to some of the reviews: Of course, thanks to everyone who reviewed, I ALWAYS appreciate reviews to my stories. To "carty" :  It's very well plausible that Claudia's mom would curse; I won't generalize, but a lot of people do, especially as they progress into adulthood. Is it right? Maybe not, but it's realistic, which is why I included it. *And for the record, I'm actually not a goth :o)*   To Lexie, thanks for you defending review, I'm glad you could see the realism behind Claudia's character.  

Also, in regards to the "songfic" ending, I know that "Goodbye to You" by Michelle Branch wouldn't have been around when this story took place (I estimate the last chapter around 1988-ish) but I thought the words were very appropriate for the storyline, so I used it anyway. =D  

So, I think that's it. Please let me know what you think, as always, I love reviews! 

_---DarkFaithSlayer _


End file.
